In the second last episode of the series, Jack faces exams head on. After a monumental term (who knew Year 9 could be so bloody hard?) it’s time to look forward, to the holidays and beyond.

25 May 1996

Well hello there. I haven’t talked to you since last week, my lost friend. After everything we went through I bet you feel abandoned. But I’m busy, you know. I’ve got a life.

Don’t laugh.

Michell Lewis. Mrs Dickson and Jin. Zach and Steve. I need to write it all down because I’ll forget what it was like back here in May 1996, lying in bed on a Saturday night, Mum, Dad and Myles watching ‘Saturday Night Fever’ we hired on video.

It’s like I’m moving from one thing to the next by obligation. I’m living today, then tomorrow, and then the next and the next, not coming up to breathe. I wish it was more like a thriller: I’m the hero defending Earth against impending doom. The hero wins, gets the girl, prevents catastrophe, but not before wide-spread panic that needs leadership. Unexpected heroes are a bit like me – nerdy, battling unpopularity to convince leaders of a controversial plan.

I’ll start with exams. I bombed out on two I reckon. Science and English. The week started with normal classes on Monday, then PDHPE. Piece of piss. Wednesday was the biggest day, with Drama, Music and English in a row; I have this blister on my middle finger where I hold my pen.

For English we had to write a letter to Lockie Leonard – the main character in the book we’ve been studying by Tim Winton – as if we were Vicki Streeton, his first love: ‘Tell Lockie about the time you went out, and why you feel that there was no hope for your relationship’. God. I almost turned it into a creative writing exercise. We also had to answer questions about the difference between ‘omniscient third-person narrative’, and ‘from the character’s perspective’, which was easy because Lockie is written as if he’s telling the story, even though it’s in third person. I wonder why writers do that. Is it easier to write personal stuff when you change names?

Let’s try it. Jack also had to list 10 factors responsible for the downfall of Macbeth. Jack found it hard because they are all inter-related. One leads to another, to another. That’s what a downfall is: a series of connected failures. Jack wrote that. So he hopes he doesn’t lose marks for changing the question to something he thought was more appropriate given the text.

Urgh. Back to first person. Me me me. That’s better. This is, after all, all about me.

Our term drama performance went OK. It was called ‘Mitch’. Another coincidence. Snowy isn’t a great actor, and even though I wanted to spend extra time with him rehearsing after school, events last week made it impossible. I don’t think I’ll be in his group again. We won’t get good marks. The best thing about our performance was that we all kept so focused and believed in the situation. That big word, ‘Focus’, that Mr W is always going on about. I thought we could have done more with group dynamics – made the characters more believable by raising the level of conflict. Glen, the character I played, was the mediator between Tony and Peter; he brokered the peace. I think this was a unique reading. Our set was very boring though. I think I’ve acted better. I kept thinking about our ’story-telling checklist’ – movement, space, character, story. Maybe it wasn’t a great performance, but we nailed the basics.

Snowy gave me a hug afterwards in the lockers.

‘Tough week’, he said.

‘You don’t know the half of it’, I thought.

‘Do you want to come over in the holidays? I’m going to my Dad’s’, Snowy said. ‘I’ve got lots of swim training, but that’s in the mornings. My sister will be back too’.

I like Snowy’s sister. She is older and kisses me hello. She chats about clothes and what she is doing at school.

‘I don’t know’, I said. ‘I’ve got writer’s camp and your Dad’s is pretty far’.

‘You can stay for a few days. We’ll go to the beach and watch movies’.

‘I’ll think about it Snow’. I love that place on the beach. Two years ago, we wrestled on the floor after watching Point Break, and I accidentally saw Snowy’s bum in the shower. I wanted him to turn around. I’ve never seen his dick, only the outline in speedos. He has blond pubes. That night, when he went to sleep, I got up and sat on his bed. He was so beautiful. I touched his hair. I touched his leg through the sheet. I stared for what felt like hours, before I went back to my mattress on the floor.

‘I’ll ask Mum and she can talk with your Dad’, I said.

‘He’ll be fine’.

‘Thanks for the invite’.

I feel bigger than him. I would love to take control, force a kiss on him. See how he reacts. Jin and I have a secret now. Secrets are power. Secrets are control. Even though I haven’t seen Jin because of exams, I know he’s OK; he would never break this deal.

Back to exams. Waves, digestion, matter: Science. And History was good because I’d done a lot of study on the difficulties of the first 20 years of the colony, the convict system, and governor Lachlan Macquarie. Maths sucked. It has no application in life. Lately our teacher has been putting the pressure on to do really well, to be at the top. But not everyone can be like Myles and top maths with 100 per cent.

But saying that, I know how much pressure Myles must be under to do well in the HSC, after everything that happened with Mitchell Lewis. Such awful timing, just before the trials, when everyone is trying to study. I think it will take years to get over. Year 12s will wake up at the end of the year, with the last HSC exam, and wonder what happened; they’ll wonder where to go next with all this grief. I know a lot of people are asking questions of the school. The message has been ‘continue studying’. But I see guys crying on the oval and holding hands. Apparently Mitch left a note for his best friend. It wasn’t as impulsive as it first sounded.

No one has talked about it at school. There hasn’t even been a memorial service. I’m ashamed. Swept under the carpet. There’s a rigid face of silence from teachers. Life carries on: the daily flow in and out of school; bells ring; the tuck shop serves sausage rolls and sauce and chocolate milk; handball courts are war grounds for the Year 7s; Year 12 girls and guys make out in the lockers; the flag goes up and down; people get changed for PE; orchestra rehearsals go on with Mitchell’s spot filled in, though no one will ever forget that we knew him, that we knew he was there.

26 May 1996

O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, thaw and resolve itself into a dew – Hamlet

I’ve been doing some reading. Last year suicide accounted for a quarter of all deaths of young males in Australia. I feel like something has begun. A trek. This impact of mortality has made me realise the flimsiness of life. While most of my friends are concerned with X-files and what girl likes them or not, I’m 14 and helping a friend fight suicidal thoughts. I see people running around on this minute planet, inflating their own problems to compete with the next door neighbour when he or she asks, ‘How was your day?’ Why compete for pain? There are no prizes for the person that finishes with the biggest pain. I learned that last week from Mitch.

I keep wondering whether Mitch was gay like me, like Jin, whether that tipped him over the edge. He was gentle. He had a soft face. He seemed sensible but too intelligent, like he occupied another world. But you know, it doesn’t console me to think about why he did it, and what he was thinking. Even when I want to know why. There’s no relief.

He will never grow up. Imagine the man he would have been, once he got out of here.

Death is so unknown. I’m scared I’ll die. I don’t want to. I’m scared of the blackness, the nothing for eternity, and being judged. I’m scared I’ll die by accident. I keep thinking about Mitchell taking his own life. Why did it get that far? How did he take that step? What did he feel?

Mr W wrote me this really excellent thing today. He makes us write ‘drama reflections’ every week. My last one was about Mitch and everything. I asked him, ‘Is my passion for drama able to overcome the loss of security, the burning of bridges and the uncertainty that things will be cool?’ He replied in red pen:

Jack, don’t lose sight of your talent. If you can keep all else in perspective, don’t be hard on yourself, trust yourself, and be prepared to share your ideas, passions, thoughts, fears and revelations with those you trust, then you will fly.

You asked about how the staff reacted to Mitchell’s death. We finally had a staff meeting about it. It was extremely useful. Most of the staff are acutely aware of the stress and tension this school generates, not only with students but with staff too. There is so little time. And I find that a real shame. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.

It was good to read.

Jesus Christ Superstar starts next term and I got the role of an apostle! I even have a line, when Jesus is being whipped. Jin is in it too. He gets to sing a song called ‘Could we start again please?’

I’ve been living to see you.
Dying to see you, but it shouldn’t be like this.
This was unexpected,
What do I do now?
Could we start again please?
I’ve been very hopeful, so far.
Now for the first time, I think we’re going wrong.
Hurry up and tell me,
This is just a dream.
Oh could we start again please?

It’s been a real test this week, not just with exams. You look at people different when someone dies. I know more about my strengths and weaknesses, learned how to express grief to Myles and Mum and Dad. It feels good.

I’ve decided I can’t be this sad anymore. So I’m going to crawl out of it. I’m thinking of making a stand against the lack of awareness and programmes to deal with teenage depression at school. I wonder who will join me? I want it to be big. I’ll ask Mr W.

And finally. I’ve decided that before the holidays I’m going to come clean to Snowy. I’ve started drafting a letter. It’s not finished. When it is, I’ll give it to him.

I’ll put it here, so I will always remember the day I my balls grew.

Go to Episode 14: Season Finale